


saline solution

by Snickfic



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Enemas, Established Relationship, First Time Kink, M/M, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2019-02-06 13:21:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12818418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snickfic/pseuds/Snickfic
Summary: Geno is trembling and already flushed pink all over even though all Sid has done is get the equipment ready. Geno is curled on his side, his eyes closed, maybe so he doesn’t need to see the bag of fluids hung on the hook or the nozzle swinging gently below.





	saline solution

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted as a submission to [the bottom!Geno Tumblr](https://bottomgeno.tumblr.com/post/167994262386/sidgeno-enema-kink#notes), long may it post.

Geno is trembling and already flushed pink all over even though all Sid has done is get the equipment ready. Geno is curled on his side, his eyes closed, maybe so he doesn’t need to see the bag of fluids hung on the hook or the nozzle swinging gently below. “Geno,” Sid says softly. “We don’t—”

“I want,” Geno says, voice pitched high, like a plea. 

Sid rests a hand on Geno’s haunch. Geno shudders underneath the touch. “It’s okay,” Sid says, and _it_ could mean what they’re doing or it could mean not doing it. Either is fine with Sid. He’s already stiffened up a little in anticipation, but that won’t last long if Geno’s genuinely freaked out.

“I want,” Geno repeats, meeting Sid’s eyes. “I want, it’s just—” Words fail him, and he shrugs.

“I’ve done this for myself before,” Sid says, even though Geno knows. They talked it all through when Geno first brought it up. If possible, Geno was even redder then than he is now. 

“I trust you,” Geno says, mildly reproving. “Just weird. Big thing.”

It wasn’t for Sid. It _felt_ kind of weird, the first time a partner asked him to clean himself out before they fucked, but Sid got the hang of it soon enough, and then it was just—maintenance. It was as mundane as a sinus rinse and about as sexy, as far as Sid was concerned.

He’ll grant the idea’s gained a lot of ground since Geno first managed, despite much fumbling and muttered Russian, to express to Sid what he wanted. 

“It’s okay,” Sid repeats. He sweeps his palm up and down Geno’s thigh. “I’ll take care of you.”

Geno heaves in a big breath and nods. God, this does it for Sid like nothing else, like no particular act he’s ever tried: Geno, putting himself in Sid’s hands. 

But Sid made a promise, and he can’t get distracted. He inspects the valve on the tube one more time, and he opens it just far enough to allow a dribble of solution across the back of his hand. It’s pleasantly warm, a couple of degrees above body temperature. There’d be a trace of salt if he tasted it.

Geno’s eyes have shut again, his breath robotically steady, a deliberate, rigid in and out. Sid gives his calf a last squeeze. Then he puts some lube on his finger and lifts Geno’s ass cheek until the dull pink of Geno’s hole is visible. Sid circles the rim with his lubed-up finger, and then he slides the nozzle carefully in. Geno shudders, blotchily flushed everywhere. “Bad?” Sid asks.

“Okay,” Geno says, but he still sounds pretty wound up. Sid hasn’t even opened the valve yet. 

He massages Geno’s ass, rolling a pinch of it between his fingers, kneading again: not working out any knots, just letting Geno know he’s there. “You’re good,” he says. “You’re doing fine.” It took Sid longer than it should have after they got to together to realize how Geno hung onto every word of praise like a lifeline. Sid got conned by Geno’s bluster, but he knows better now. “You’re going to look so good,” Sid says, and he knows it’s true. He can’t wait for it. 

Sid checks that the nozzle is firmly seated, and then he says, “I’m going to open the valve now.” 

Geno gasps as the first trickle of solution reaches him. Sid murmurs to him: soft, warm nothings that Sid couldn’t repeat if he tried. He squeezes Geno’s haunch again and watches the solution level in the enema bag slowly drop. 

Geno grunts in discomfort. Sid instantly flips the valve shut. “Okay?” he asks. Geno’s eyes are pinched shut, his fingers fisted in one of the towels they’d laid over the bedspread. “Geno?”

“Little bit—cramp,” Geno mutters.

“It helps if you breathe,” Sid says, like Geno hasn’t dealt with cramps of all kinds his entire athletic career. “You can do it. In—” Sid sucks in a breath to demonstrate. “Count of three, out.” 

Geno taps out the count with his finger and slowly exhales. In, tap tap tap, out. Gradually the deep furrow in his forehead begins to ease, and his face relaxes. 

“Better?” Sid asks.

“Keep go,” Geno says, waving a hand in the direction of the bag.

He doesn’t react nearly as much this time when the solution begins to flow. Sid keeps a palm pressed to Geno’s hip, to help ground Geno but maybe to ground Sid, too. “You’re doing so great,” Sid says softly, aiming for soothing.

Geno cranes his neck to glare at Sid. “You make fun.”

Sid snaps the valve shut on reflex. “What? No, of course not. What the fuck.” Okay, that probably was not soothing.

Geno squeezes his eyes shut, and when he opens them again, they’re shiny wet. Some of the lashes are clumped together. “I know it’s normal, lots of people do. Lots of—” He swallows hard. “Lots of gay guys do, all the time, it’s not special.”

Sid’s heart twists. “It’s special to you,” he says. “Come on, you know it doesn’t matter what other guys do. It doesn’t matter to me,” he adds, in case this is the sticky point. “I just like doing stuff with you.” _Stuff_. He likes doing _stuff_ with Geno. For fuck’s sake, Crosby. “I like when you trust me like this,” he tries again. “It’s a big deal to me.”

“It’s big deal for me, too,” Geno says, and this time he’s smiling a little.

Sid presses a kiss to Geno’s hip. “I’m going to start it again,” he warns. There’s only a quarter or so left of the pint of solution they started with. Better not to push Geno too hard this first time, Sid figured.

Geno closes his eyes and breathes through the sensation for a few moments, and then he grunts again, sharper than last time. Sid strokes Geno’s thigh and listens to his harsh breath, the only sound in the room, sheltered away from the world. “You want to stop?” he asks finally.

“Bag empty?”

“Close enough.”

Geno cranes his neck to peer at it, hanging from the hook. He snorts. “Just little bit, I can do.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course sure,” Geno says, voice rich with disgust. Sid hides a smile. 

He has to remind Geno a couple more times to breathe. Geno keeps tensing up. But finally the bag drains empty, all inside Geno. There’s an appeal in that Sid would never have predicted. “All done,” he says, stroking along Geno’s thigh as he inspect the nozzle. “Okay, tighten up, don’t want a spill.”

“ _Sid_ ,” Geno says, mortified. The blotchy flush returns, pink as ever. 

Sid slides the nozzle out and slips a plug in its place, like he and Geno discussed. When the plug is firmly seated, Sid gives Geno’s ass a light slap. “You can roll over now, if you want.” 

It’s a slow, cautious maneuver as Geno carefully shoves himself onto his back, knees bent. He splays his fingers low across his belly.

“How’s it feel?”

“Weird,” Geno said absently, too caught up in the exploration of this new self to pay much attention. Sid tucks a pillow behind Geno’s head, so he can look down at himself without straining his neck quite so much. Not that there’s much to see; Sid didn’t given him nearly enough solution to be visible. But Geno traces across the curve of his belly until Sid’s curiosity gets the best of him. He lays his hand next to Geno’s, and Geno sucks in a breath.

“Feels little bit warm,” Geno says. “Feels—tight?”

“Yeah?” Sid presses down on the gentle curve just above Geno’s pubic bone. Geno gasps softly, and Sid can feel it, kind of, a newfound resistance Geno didn’t have before. Sid flattens his palm to the place and strokes across Geno’s gut from hipbone to hipbone. Geno watches, wide-eyed and red-faced. Sid’s struck with how Geno would look with twice, three times this much in him. For a moment Sid can see the swell, rising where no swell should be, and it knocks the breath out of him.

But that’s for another time. “You look really good like this, G,” he says, as warm and admiring as he knows how. “You did so good.”

“You like?” Geno says, smirking a little now, earlier insecurities all forgotten. He licks his bottom lip, teasing and smug as hell. 

Sid bends to catch his mouth in a kiss, then another. He only straightens up when his neck starts to ache. “You wanna take that plug out, empty out? I could fuck you.” God, he really could. His neglected dick is getting more difficult to ignore.

“Not yet,” Geno says, a trace of shyness creeping back into his voice. “Just want to feel, little bit more.”

So Sid settles on the edge of the bed, more perching than sitting, and he squeezes Geno’s shoulder, and he listens to him breathe.


End file.
